


Say Something

by Traxits



Series: Choke on Memories [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Darkfic, Introspection, M/M, Masturbation, Mirror Sex, identity crisis, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 00:23:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1569188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traxits/pseuds/Traxits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers has an identity crisis.  Captain America is just fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say Something

The mirror was cold under his fingers. Comforting. Familiar. Sometimes, Steve wondered if he'd ever thawed completely, if maybe some part of him was still frozen in that iceberg.

He hadn't seen very many full length mirrors like this before he'd frozen. Capsicle. That's what Tony had called him. Because he was always Captain America, even when he was frozen and dreaming.

His fingers slid down the mirror, and he took half a step back from it so that he could see himself in it. The uniform was close fitting, but then, it always was. It made him look more heroic if he was seen fighting a war in this, in fabric that he was fairly sure wouldn't protect anyone from anything. Chainmail bikini, Clint had said once with a laugh, and Steve was embarrassed to admit that he'd looked that up afterward. It was fitting though, for all that his uniform covered everything, and it was designed to appeal to the eyes. The female gaze? Not so much. Just the human gaze.

The gaze that made him appear to be a hero.

("Buck, don't, I... I can't do it again. You know what they say when they see me, man. They only agree to the double dates because they want you.")

His eyes closed for a second while he licked his lips, and he glanced over toward the window, making sure he'd drawn the blinds and the curtains. Stock curtains. Because SHIELD had paraded all kinds of designers and decorators through here in an attempt to make things more... homey. Nothing had worked, because for all their attempts, they didn't actually seem to know much about what he'd grown up with.

It was a waitress who'd smiled at him and asked if he liked vintage stuff when she'd noticed his watch. She'd told him about a flea market, and he'd just taken some of the back-pay SHIELD had given him to buy things. It wasn't so hard to settle in after that. And then he'd seen the mirror. It had cost an obscene amount of money by his standards, but it was nearly identical to the one Bucky had.

("That's ridiculous. You know what they see, Steve? The same thing I do. Every single one of them.")

The catch was that Steve didn't sleep with that mirror in his room. Not when he could lay there and stare at it. So it spent most of its time in the closet that Steve only used for the uniform. He could have folded it, could have tucked it in the drawer beside his t-shirts and his sweats and everything else he'd found to wear, but it was out of place there. So he hung it.

And some days, he pretended he didn't have a closet.

Today though, he'd brought out the mirror before he took off the uniform. There was still blood on it, and he reached down, his fingers tracing the outline of the dark stain. Not red, not anymore. Blood wasn't red after it dried, but he had seen enough of it on the Stars and Stripes to recognize it. His fingers smeared across the mirror, oils from his skin and dried sweat and who knew what else, and Steve swallowed before he dropped his touch away.

("You can't _know_ that. You don't... I'm not like you. I don't look like you.")

His hand came up to the uniform, and it took two tries to start getting it off. Steve wasn't sure of the last time his fingers had trembled quite so badly. He wasn't sure they'd ever trembled like this after the serum.

(Bucky's fingers were swift and sure as they pulled out his shirt and unbuttoned it. Steve probably would have protested some except that Bucky was kissing him. The girls never kissed him like this. Bucky was drowning and the only thing that could save him was the air Steve could give him, and Steve wasn't sure he knew how to say no to that. ... He wasn't sure he wanted to say no to that.)

There was no sign of the fights from the last mission. Once the uniform was off, there was no way to even know that Captain America had hurt anyone. Like this, he could just tousle his hair, put on fresh clothes, and smile for the public. Lie for his country. For SHIELD.

He didn't stop until he was completely bare, and for a long moment, he just stood there, staring at himself.

(Bucky only pulled back from the kisses to murmur, "I want you to see what I see," against Steve's lips. Steve shuddered for the words, shook his head, but before he could say anything, Bucky disarmed him. Took away his protests before Steve could even find words for them. "Please," Bucky said, and his voice broke on the word, and Bucky was a _bastard_ for doing this. Steve kissed him this time, his hands coming up to tangle in Bucky's dark hair.)

His hands braced against the mirror, his eyes closing as he focused on the memories. Bucky's hands, hard and huge on him. They'd been smaller the one time they'd had sex after the serum. Steve had known what he was gaining when he agreed to the serum, agreed to become this. He still wasn't sure he'd discovered everything that he'd given up.

He wasn't sure he wanted to know anymore.

He looked nothing like he'd used to. His hands though, they were the right size, and if Steve didn't let himself think too much about it, he could drag them over his torso and remember the way it had felt when Bucky had done it.

("See," Bucky had murmured, and his hands were huge on Steve's body, one on his hip and one sliding down his chest. The mirror was cold against Steve's palms, and he struggled to watch everything. He kept coming back to Bucky's eyes though, Bucky's eyes and Bucky's hands, and no, he didn't see. He didn't see anything that wasn't Bucky. Steve's body was just the canvas for him to stroke across, the model in the chair while Bucky's hands made the real art. Those fingers slid down, and then they wrapped around Steve and squeezed him—)

Steve bit his lip as his hand closed around himself. He was mostly hard already, just from the memories and the mirror. It was practically a learned response by this point, one that Bucky had instilled in him years ago.

("How do you not see it? You're amazing, Steve. So damned brave and stubborn.")

His hand tightened around himself, and his eyes closed. It was just as well. He couldn't see anything clearly anyway, not with the heat building up there. Everything was just one big blur, a smear across his eyes as one of his senses failed him for possibly the first time since...

("Christ, Steve, just _look_ at you—")

"Buck," he breathed, and the word stuck in his throat, half-choked him. Such an easy name, no reason for Steve to struggle with it except...

("You and me, Steve. 'Til the end of the line.")

Steve's hand tightened more— nearly too hard now, but it took that for Steve to get enough sensation for it to be worth it. A sharp cry escaped him, and he sank down to his knees. His eyes eased open, and he still couldn't see. It was better that way, with his shoulders shaking and his hand moving and his breath catching. Every time he managed to make the air move again, it escaped him on a shuddery little noise.

Bucky was never content until Steve broke for him, and it was always Bucky's name on his lips then. But he couldn't push himself over the edge now. He hadn't been able to since the serum, since the one time they'd—

His hand stopped, slid all the way down, then dropped away, and Steve was left without the pretense. It was just him on the floor in front of this mirror, sobbing, and for once, he wasn't sure where Captain America had gone.

"It's just me," he managed, and he blinked a few times before he finally reached up to wipe away his tears. He met his own gaze in the mirror, and his lips pressed together, trying to keep from trembling. "It's just me, Buck. Steve. And I... I don't know what's worth seeing anymore."

And this time, Bucky wasn't there to tell him.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a [prompt](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/17613.html?thread=41018317#t41018317) on the kink meme.
> 
>  
> 
> **[Slash] Bucky/Steve, Pre-Serum Steve, Bucky has sex with Steve in front of a mirror**  
>  _Steve is always telling Bucky that he can do better than Steve, he gets self conscious around the girls Bucky lines up for dates because he thinks Bucky would prefer them. Bucky think that if Steve could see what Bucky sees when he looks at his best friend then Steve wouldn't be so down on himself. Bonus points if Steve gets really turned on watching them and Bucky realises how in love he is with Steve._

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Don't Speak](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1572599) by [theLiterator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theLiterator/pseuds/theLiterator)




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